


Monster in the Mist

by One_eyed_God



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aaron is a dick, F/M, Halloween, Implied Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_eyed_God/pseuds/One_eyed_God
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron is looking for a new prey. He doesn't realize he's one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster in the Mist

**Author's Note:**

> If you need something tagged, tell me. This is something small I wrote for Samhain. I hope you like it! And thanks to lanxborealis for giving me strenght and inspiration to conceive this world, and this small piece!

Aaron steps inside the pub with a swaggering look, nodding towards the barman who serves him his usual without a word. Outside, it’s pouring, like it has been for the past week. He looks around, watching the couple whispering to each other, the friends with their painted faces laughing loudly at some joke and finally – the poor sods like him, alone on this Halloween evening.  The dim light lets him see just enough to convince him no one is worth his time. He sits on a stool, and takes his drink, listening to the gloomy music put on for the occasion. Everyone is dressed too, dark robes and creepy masks coupled with black and white make-up or red as blood lips. He catches the stare of a lone woman simpering at him, her full lips pursed into a grin as she slowly passes her hand through her dark hair. He shakes his head.

Women don’t interest him – they’re too bland for him. Their flesh is tasteless and they don’t have enough fat on their bones to truly be a good meal. His margarita tastes sweet in his mouth and he asks for another as the door opens, letting a lithe figure enter, as well as the sound of the wind and rain.

His hungry eyes settles on the newcomer, tracing every single part of their body. They wear a short skirt and dark leggings with tears at the knees. Their shirt is black as well, looking oddly Victorian or gothic, with frills and furbelows on the wrists and the collar. They’re _exquisite_.

Aaron can’t see their face yet, doesn’t know if they’re a girl or a boy but no matter – he needs to have them. He wants to dig his teeth in the sweet looking neck, draw blood and lick it all the while hearing moans and cries of pain, sweet, delicious torture. He finishes his drink in a long gulp, licks his lips and puts on the kindest grin he can.

The cute kid looks up when he approaches, a red eyepatch on his right eye. The left looks golden, shining in the dark atmosphere. Aaron feels like he’s watching a fae or some other fairy creature. The dark skin is begging for bruises and bites, the white teeth glistening could be ripped off and put in a pretty jar. He can’t wait to have the pretty creature for himself.

“Hey handsome.” He takes a seat, still staring at the striking eye. A scar mars the other cheek, starting just at the end of the right eyebrow and ending near the mouth – full dark lips, shining with saliva, oh he wants to kiss, lick, bite, _eat_.

“… Good evening.”

A fine start. Some of his prey don’t even deign answer him but the kid is watching him, something unknown ( _hunger? Lust?_ ) dancing in his hazel iris. Aaron notices the dark red eyeshadow, the eyeliner painting the face. Must be a girl then. Well, too bad, but there’s enough meat in the thighs to satisfy him a little he supposes.

“How’re you doing?” Aaron asks, letting another smile shows his perfect teeth. The prey sighs and rubs his visible eye, looking disheartened.

“Well. My boyfriend just dumped me for a prettiest girl.” Her voice sounds like a tolling bell, rough and wretched.

“Ouch, hard. Wanna talk about it over a drink?” He can relate. His latest girlfriend cheated on him with a coworker. They’re not here anymore to tell the tale but hey, at least she got what she wanted right? ( _I want to get under your skin Aaron, so that you never forget me_ ) Ah. Bitch.

“… Sure. “

A first victory. He gestures toward the barman, asking for another margarita and lets the kid asks for whatever she want. She asks for a fruit squash and he raises his eyebrow. A heartbroken girl alone in a pub Halloween evening, and yet she doesn’t drink alcohol. Underage then? Well. If she’s unwilling to follow him, there’s always the drug he has in his jacket pocket.

“Name’s Aaron.”

The kid finally lightens up, letting her brown lips stretch into an enthusiast smile.

“Oh. It has a lot of meanings you know. One of them is “High Mountain”, another is “bearer of martyrs”. It is a worthy name to bear.” Her voice is still quiet, but it holds more emotions than before. He laughs a little, and rubs his neck, faking embarrassment to bring out more kindness from the girl.

“Heh, thanks I guess? What’s yours sweetheart?” The name isn’t important, she’ll be dead soon enough but he likes to have a name to sing about while he cooks.

“Iblis.” His eyes widen. She’s not the only one to know a bit about names and well, this one’s _weird_.

“Wow, your parents hated you or something? You know it’s one of the names of Lucifer right?”

She laughs again, more delicately this time. He feels like he just heard crystalline music. She is _perfect_.

“I chose that name for myself. I liked the idea of wearing an angel’s name.” An angel, huh? Seems oddly fitting for someone dressed in black and red, wearing a choker with a skull and with nails looking as sharp as a knife.

“Fallen angel.” He corrects with a little smirk. She smirks back.

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“You got me I guess.” Her hand falls on the table, her agile fingers tapping against the old wood. He wonders – would she accept being touched yet? Is she still sad about her ex? She seems fine to him but he can’t screw up now, he _needs_ her –

“Wanna get out of here?”

Oh. She asks him with a slow wink, her umber hand reaching to touch his cheek. Her touch is like ice, still wet from the rain despite the warm heating from the fire near them. He can feel a drop of water slowly slide down his skin, falling inside his shirt. He feels cold, and shivers. Her stare is sharp, intense and he wants to kiss her ( _so he does_ ). Her lips taste like a perfectly ripe apple and her tongue is warm inside his mouth.

_Got you angel._

The kiss is ardent, and stops too soon for him to be truly satisfied but never mind. They will continue at his flat, or in an alley, anywhere they can be alone so he can put his hands around that pretty warm brown skin and _choke_.

He takes her hand without asking, pulling her from her sit. The barman smirks when Aaron looks his way. The lone woman from before looks disappointed and jealous, but he doesn’t wait for her to make her way to them and complain. He simply gets out, shielding Iblis’ body from the storm. Lightning flashes and when he watches his small companion, she looks like a ghost from another dimension.

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers, his arm around her lean shoulders. He’s pretty sure he hears her sigh against his grip. He can’t wait anymore. A dark alley it will be. A sad place for an angel like her to meet her death, but hey, he doesn’t make the rules, does he?

As they get away from the pub, Iblis touches him more, light fingers fluttering against his cheeks, brushing from his neck to his hands. The icy touch combined with the cold wind is chilling but he loves it. It is like a crying angel statue come to life is courting him and he can’t wait to break her stone heart again.

“My flat is near.” She says against his ear, hot breath warming his wet skin. He smiles and nods, letting her drag him through another alley. They move away and away from the parties and the life, into the darkest part of downtown. He doesn’t ask why she lives here by herself, how old she is. He doesn’t care after all – leaving heartbroken parents or no one to grieve isn’t something he thinks about.

Then she stops, tense against him.

“I think someone’s following us.”

Now that they’re away from the noise of the people in the streets, he can hear clearly the rain pouring and the wind. He doesn’t notice anything strange until – yes there. Someone’s coming. He frowns and tightens his grip. ( _Go away. She’s mine_ ).

They speed up, trying to find a path that will lose the person following them. The light from the streets seems so far away now. His grip is like iron now, and he’s almost certain the yellow brown skin is now darkening with bruises.

“Come on, come on Iblis.”

He doesn’t know how long they walk like this, swift and tense. He hears Iblis moaning under the pain but he can’t let her get away now.

There’s laughter somewhere in the dark. He tries not to shiver.

“Fuck.” He swears because _fuck_ he’s lost. The alleys look all the same, dark and grey and he doesn’t know where Iblis’ flat is. She never did say where it was, simply took his hand and led him in this trap – Wait.

He stops.

That’s it.

“You.” He turns toward Iblis. He can’t see her face well. Mist is settling around them, like a wet and cold blanket.

She smiles.

Someone is behind him.

“Hi Amon.” She says, brightly, with so much more life than when she was talking with Aaron and _fuck, fuck,_ this is bad, this is so, so bad.

A man, taller than him, _bigger_ than him slides past him, like a fucking ghost and turns around. Grey eyes shining in the dark. The man doesn’t even look at him, his stare is fixated on Iblis, with so much devotion he wants to throw up.

“My love. Have you been naughty?” She shakes her head with enthusiasm and points toward Aaron.

“He’s a serial rapist. Probably a cannibal too, but I’m not really sure.” She laughs again, latches her arm onto his and shakes it like Aaron’s a toy. “Can we play with him?”

His other arm is taken by “Amon”. He wants to fight back but somehow he feels utterly weak and – fuck he’s been _drugged_ or this is magic, he’s not sure, but –

“Shit.”

Another laugh and a shrill cry echo in the mist.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading until the end. I'll probably write more of this for Nano.


End file.
